


Migraines and Other Pains

by iduna



Series: Whose Stupid Idea Was This, Anyway? [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Breakfast, Gen, Healing, friendship sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 03:36:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16802857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iduna/pseuds/iduna
Summary: Cullen thinks no one notices his headaches. He's not correct.





	Migraines and Other Pains

**Author's Note:**

> I know I'm slow. I hope there are some of you still with me. Give me a shout out if you're still there.

It was early in the morning, but Cullen had been up for hours. He had read reports on troop movements, supply lines, and a scouting report on the watchtowers Horsemaster Dennet had requested. He was there when the training of recruits began and was now making his way toward the War Room to meet with the Council. 

Tea, bread, jam, and a small bowl of soft cheese were already on the table, and he saw the Herald of Andraste, plate beside her, knitting in a corner. 

“Good morning, Commander,” she said, looking up from her work. “You look like shit. Do you even try to sleep anymore, or have you given up the pretense?”

Cullen pinched his nose and sighed. Loudly. He already had a headache, this wasn’t a promising start to the meeting.

“You know, I can make a draught to help you sleep, if you want…” She began.

“That isn’t necessary, Herald,” he assured her. “I am capable of…”

“Nug shit. You aren’t capable of shit right now.” Carys stood up, and started filling a cup of tea.

“I get it. You think Andraste gives a big, shiny trophy at the end for the Templar that suffers the most,” she says, handing the cup to the Commander. “I know that’s a big, steaming pile of nug shit. You don’t have to suffer you know. I could help. If you’d let me.”

Cullen accepted the cup of tea and lifted it to his face. The aroma of citrus and cinnamon had the instant effect of making him feel warmer. Since joining the Inquisition, Carys… the Herald, had taken charge of the meeting beverages. The tea was always fragrant, comforting, and tasty. It was a small comfort he wasn’t used to but was coming to appreciate. 

“As you know, My Lady, I am no longer a Templar.”

As usual, Carys winced at the use of the term ‘My Lady’ but wasn’t deterred. 

“If you want me to believe that,” she began, “You should do a better job of not acting like one.”

Carys took a scone and spread cheese and jam on it. Then, she broke it in half, putting each half on a different plate, and handed one plate to Cullen. 

“Have something to eat. I know you’re not eating well, either. Probably because you’re in so much pain with the headaches. Migraines can do that, you know. Your stomach feels like you’re going to purge everything you’ve ever eaten, so you just don’t chance it. There is ginger in the tea, which should help settle your stomach. The scone and cheese will help by giving the acid something to do besides eat you up from the inside. Hopefully, together, it will give you some relief. It may even help the headache you’re working on right now.”

Cullen looked at the plate, then looked at Carys as she walked back to her corner. How did she… 

“Don’t look so shocked. I trained for a long time as a healer. I’d be a piss poor one if I couldn’t diagnose a migraine.” She rolled her eyes so loudly that Cullen could hear it happening. “What, did you think I baked this because I like scones? You’re in pain, you don’t sleep, and you walk in here, every morning in a shitty mood.”

Taking a bite of food and tucking it into her cheek she continued. “I’m not a glutton for punishment, unlike others that shall go nameless, and I don’t like getting yelled at. Or yelled around for that matter. Hence the food and tea. So, eat up.”

After taking a bite of scone, he asked, “How did you know about the headaches? I never said…” 

Carys laughed softly. “It really wasn’t that hard. You have a habit of massaging your neck when you’re working. That’s a give away that you’re carrying a lot of stress. You squint and pinch your nose when you’re irritated. You angle your face away from any direct light source, meaning the light hurts your eyes. You take your meals in your cabin, but the servants are always taking away full trays, so you’re not eating. Templars tend to eat like horses, so that much food being left untouched is really unusual.”

Lifting her cup, she inhaled the steam from her teacup, and sighed a little. “Finally, I sleep like shit. You sleep worse. You roam the town at odd hours, and no matter when I leave my cabin, you’re always up and dressed. If you’re resting less than I am, you have a problem.” 

Cullen knew he was staring at her. He knew that he looked like she had hit him with a dead trout, and he knew that she was happy about that. Still, he couldn’t figure out how, or why she had taken that much time, or energy, to do so. 

Without asking, Carys supplied the answer. “You’re wondering why, aren’t you?” 

Raising the cup to his lips, he took a sip and nodded.

“I’m not really being altruistic here, you know. First, a Templar that’s in pain is a danger to a mage… You say you left the Order, but I really don’t know what the fuck that means. What I know is, that for all intents and purposes, you still act and think like a Templar. It’s in my best interest to do what I can to make you feel better, even if you don’t want it.

“Next, it’s what I’m trained to do. I’m good at it. Since I was compelled to join your Inquisition, I’ve been doing a lot of things that I don’t like. The Seeker probably told you that I’m shit at killing things. I mean, yeah, they die, but I hate it, and myself after I do it. Solas complains constantly that I won’t let him teach me how to kill more effectively. I hate politics and nobles, and Lady Montilyet gets pissy when I ask if I can zap them with lightening. Don’t even get me started on Sister Stabbity and her secrets. 

“I tried to help Adan with the potions, and he asks if the Herald of Andraste ‘doesn’t have something better to do.’ Trying to figure out how to help you did, at the very least, make me feel somewhat good about myself. I’d feel better if you actually let me treat you, but since that’s not going to happen, tea and scones will suffice.” 

Cullen had never actually considered what she thought about her place in the Inquisition. It hadn’t occurred to him that she would rather do something else. Now that he heard, he wanted to make things… easier, but he had no idea how. It was something to think about. 

“I’m sorry if…” 

“I don’t need or want your apologies, Commander. I’m a mage. Doing what someone else wants, and not what I want is something I learned a long time ago. Just as telling mages what to do is something you learned. I’m not going to give you absolution for something that’s not a sin. Just… Try to feel better, okay. If you want something for the pain, or to help you sleep, just ask. It’s not a bother, if you’re worried about that. You’re not weak if you need something for pain.

“Everyone hurts, Commander. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

He wanted to reply, to say something that would bring back that moment of understanding, but before he could, the door open, and Cassandra walked through. “Good Morning, Cullen… Herald. Oohhhh Tea….”

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to theCelticMyst for her excellent beta work. Any mistakes are mine. She's great.   
> As usual, I'm going to troll for kudos and comments. They bring me joy, and spur me on to feeling guilty when I don't try to write. I'm trying to be honest here. Please, let me know what you think. Thanks...


End file.
